


The Bully

by MiraMira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, Fear, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Orphanage, Orphans, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The basic rules of survival are simple.  They’ll never give you seconds, ever, so don’t bother asking.  Crying won’t work on Mrs. Cole if she catches you misbehaving.  Don’t expect you’ll get adopted; almost no one does.  And, of course: keep clear of Tom Riddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bully

**Author's Note:**

> From the Hogwarts Elite archives.

“Bastard!”

Although the epithet traveled across the dining hall in a muffled state, concealed as it was behind the speaker’s hand, the children knew at once who had said it and who it was meant for. They kept their heads down, hoping to avoid getting ensnared in the latest of Eddie Mason’s power plays.

Eddie was a recent arrival to the orphanage, having taken up residence a month ago following the death of his doting but doddering grandmother, which had been preceded by the boating accident that had claimed his parents. Usually, one or two of the older children would take the newcomer under their wing during this time and impart the basic rules of survival. _They’ll never give you seconds, ever, so don’t bother asking. Crying won’t work on Mrs. Cole if she catches you misbehaving. Don’t expect you’ll get adopted; almost no one does._ And, of course: _Keep clear of Tom Riddle._

But Eddie had his own set of rules. If no one would give him seconds, he would just take them. He didn’t cry, and he wasn’t scared of any prunefaced matron. It didn’t matter to him whether he got adopted or not, but at least he’d known his parents, which entitled him to lord it over anyone who hadn’t. And if a scrawny brat like Tom Riddle could be boss of this place, why, then, nothing could be simpler than for Eddie to knock him down and take his spot as the new boss.

Tom could hardly have been unaware of Eddie’s provocations, constant as they were, but bore them with a patience that caused deep alarm in those most familiar with his methods. They waited for Eddie to bring the matter to a head by some show of physical violence, but apparently he needed Tom to acknowledge their duel first. So with a creativity they were surprised to discover he possessed, he continued honing his psychological warfare.

Even more surprisingly, the strategy seemed to have worked. Tom sat ramrod straight in his chair, face a deathlier white than usual, eyes two dark holes.

“Bastard,” Eddie repeated openly, either having decided that the adults weren’t going to intervene or too pleased at having gotten a rise out of Tom to care. He sauntered forward, poked a finger at Tom’s chest. “I heard how yer mum died. Too ashamed of you to l–”

The words abruptly cut off, as did Eddie’s breathing. His eyes bugged out, and his face turned purple. Tom stared straight through him, a fire smoldering somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

Finally, Eddie mustered the strength to tap the table. Tom blinked, and Eddie collapsed, gasping for air.

The other children resumed breakfast, trying to repress their thoughts as though afraid Tom might hear. (As he might, for all they knew.) They hadn’t been rooting for Eddie, exactly. They certainly hadn’t expected him to win. But at least he would have been the kind of bully you could understand.


End file.
